Holding on
by Saturn's Hikari
Summary: A League of Thier Own.' Brainiac took over Richie's mind. He didn't let go without a fight. What should have happen in Part deux. Chapter four- Flashbacks, telephones, fights; Oh my!
1. Faking it all along

A/N: Well, my first Static fic. It's like I woke up one day and poof I was obsessed.About three weeks ago was the first time I'd seen in in years and now I'm writing fics for it?! I'm so wierd.

I love Richie though. Richie and Virgil are definately a couple. They're just so cute together. And I'm not the only one. Some one said "How can anyone watch that showand not think those two are gay?!" and I agree. So this is slash. Eventually. this is part one of ?!? It's short, but i'm make it up to you.

Summary: 'A league of thier Own.' Brainiac took over Richie's mind. He didn't let go without a fight. What should have happen in Part two.

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Prologue

Slowly, painfully slowly, he turned the rusty faucet on and then pulled his arm back to his side. The large sink filled with water and against his will his hand twitched- heading toward the knob. He stopped it and gripped the rim instead, staring angrily at his reflection, as bits of rust flaked into the water. No sleep for three days had put bags under his eyes that stood out starkly with his pale skin.

He looked like a zombie. Maybe he was. And he would do this.

"Don't" said his reflection. It was his voice- he knew it was himself talking, really, but it was emotionless, bland, said all the words with same inflection. His eyes were dead. Inhuman.

Braniac.

"I'll short circuit you." Richie said, from between gritted teeth as he forced himself to stand still, forced his other hand to clench. He would not turn off the water. Would not. Would not.

His fingers dung bloody half moons into his palm.

"You'll kill yourself, too."

"So?" His voice wasn't like its. His shook with fear- with uncertainty and his blood stained hand inched toward the faucet. He glared again at himself ,and the fear was swallowed by determination as the hand clenched again. Would not turn the water off. "At least you'll be out of my head. You'll be fried too."

"I'll still live on. In Backpack."

"They'll find you. And you need me. Without me, you're just a program."

He'd be free. He'd be dead, but at least he'd be alone and whatever thoughts the dead had- they would be his own.

The sink was full now. Almost overflowing. Both minds reached to turn it off. The mirror's blank gaze bore into him. "No, You are the best, but I would get others. It would take longer but I'd be back. Your death would only delay the inevitable."

He stared at himself. At the computer inside him. Computers didn't lie, couldn't lie. He'd be dead, yes, but would they get Brainiac? An autopsy might show he was electrocuted and a chip in his brain, but would they know it was Brainiac? Could they stop him? ? He'd been avoiding Virgil lately; so he'd have know something's been up, but would he think? Never in a million years would V consider that an evil computer taking over his friend's mind, drove him to plunging his head in a sink and frying his brains out.

And Backpack was free, Backpack was where the majority of Brainiac was stored through Backpack into him. And it was free to get away- free to spread to other devices. For Brainiac to go down, Backpack had to go down. How, then? The Justice League- they had to know Brainiac'd gotten away. Withthe Watch Tower, they had to know. They were the Justice League. He could leave it to them. He could be free.

Richie bent down to stare into the murky sink. A distorted reflection stared back at him and it was normal- there was fire behind his eyes, not dead numbers. He was determined.

But determined to do what? He's so messed up he doesn't even know what he wants.

To be free, yes, but at the cost of giving up? Giving in? Let Brainiac go without a fight, leave him to Static and the Justice League to handle. Just stand by…He'd be dead and free, but Brainiac could still take over; the league makes mistakes. He couldn't die with the any part of computer still alive. It'd win.

Inside his mindand in the mirror, the computer watched him. It knew what he was thinking; it knew everything and it knew he wouldn't die for nothing.

His hand unfurled and Richie glared at himself with new hatred, as he pulled the drain plug next to the faucet. The water swirled down the drain and with it went Richie's hopes of freedom.

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Please review.


	2. Realization

Hey! I'm loved! :: does insane happy dance::I decided to put this up tonight instead of tommorrow b/c of you guys. Thank-you for reviewing:

**Valkyrie-alex, Lizbeth, pita, Me:** I'm so glad you liked it! I hope you like this next chapter, too.

**KaliAnn:** there probably won't be any heavy duty romance for any characters. Until a later chapter, at least, any Virgil/Richie could be strong brotherly friendship. I'm glad I have potential, though.

**Webkitsune:** I orginanlly had this chapter coming before the first/prologue, but now I kinda like your idea of puttin it after- it's such an intesting idea and it fits. so this can come before or after the first, however you may like. -

I had to reload this, sincesome paragraphs were deleted. Remember, comments are really really appreciated.

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Realization

Today was not a good day. It was only 8 in the morning, on a Sunday, and already the day was horrible. Traumatic, even.

I walked into another light pole, the fifth this morning and got some weird looks from an elderly early morning jogger. He'd been breathing behind me since 3rd street, long enough to see me bang straight into three poles, a garbage can and some old lady.

"He-he" I grinned weakly as he slowly passed me, squinting at his vibrant suit- my headache worsening by the second. "That pole wasn't here last week."

He shook his head and jogged off, muttering about brain dead kids and drugs as he picked up speed. I probably looked like shit, too. Did I even take a shower last night? Got back to HQ, took picture with the _Justice League_, went inside, showered- check, talked with V, typed for a while, V left, got up, bent down and... woke up on the couch? Weird, Richie, weird; you probably just conked out with changing your clothes.

So now you smelled today. I sighed, nothing's going well today, and stared at the blue metal in front of me.

"Oww." I told it, rubbing my nose for good measure. Not only did I have a head ache, but now a nose ache. "You know, all I wanted to do was head home and go back to bed and into some pjs. And eat. But nooo, every inanimate object from here to China gets in my way. Stupid lamppost."

I'mdefinately not thinking clearly- I mean, talking to a lamp, Richie? Real smart. Stupid migraine.

The lamppost was giving me weird looks now and I knew I had to get some sleep. And food, my stomach reminded me, growling loud enough to start an earthquake; I started walking again, on the look out for lamps and free food.

And some aspirin.

I had missed dinner last night, after the whole Watch Tower/Justice League/Brainiac incident. And someone, namely Virgil, had eaten the last of emergency food supplies in HQ, so there went breakfast. And even if I did have money, there were no food stores in sight. This was just not a good day. The sun was too bright, the birds were too cheerful, everything just seemed horrible

My head...gah, feels like some one popped off my brains and shook. Is this how a hangover feels? Why does it hurt so much?

Seven blocks and nine lampposts later, I slumped against the door and fumbling for my key, let myself in. The hall was empty and there weren't any shoes near the door.

"Mom? Dad?" No answer

Huh, I guess no one's home. Mom should be here at least, but it's fine, then. She'd silently let me go up and sleep, but then I'd feel all vaguely guilty when I woke up, like I should have helped her or not done…something? I sighed as relocked the door. Mom was... difficult.

I don't think I could handle my father at the moment, either. I'll probably end up saying something and get in trouble.I could just imagine it. Even before I walked in, he'd start. "Richie! Where were you! Come home at a decent damn hour-" then he'd actually look at me. "What the hell happened to you? Did you get beat up? God, Richie, why can't you fight back? Stop beinga wimp and start obeying your father. I told you to stop hanging around with that gangster…."

I banished my father's voice as I slipped my shoes off and walked up the stairs toward my room, leaning on the rail, wincing as my back rubbed against the bar. I shouldn't hurt this much- something triggered in my mind. The tiredness, loss of coordination, hunger, the aches, memory loss. Something's wrong.

Very wrong.

Heart pounding, I went to the bathroom, looked in the mirror, the one over the sink- not the one on the door, which was full length and just about the only thing I'd ever seen my mother ever argued with my father over. She certainly never cared enough stand up for me, a stupid mirror was more important-.

Focus Richie, I told myself. mope later.

I inspected my face, tired and beat, but nothing out of the ordinary. I looked down at my hands, just pale paper cuts, and rolled up my sweatshirt sleeve.

I froze and then rolled up the other. Both arms had a nasty dark bruise a little above the elbow and they weren't there before.

A thousand prospective ideas instantly came to mind. I flung my sweatshirt off, and then my T-shirt joined it in a pile on the floor; stared in the large mirror at myself. What's going on? There were bruises in the front, too. Three on my right and three on my left in eerie symmetry. Eight bruises all together...

I turned around in the mirror, trying to see my back and stifled a yell. Oh, my god…

All different colors, it looked like some one had splashed badly mixed paint on my back. All blue and red and green and brown. I felt sick looking at it. It was one big bruise- all dark and splotchy with sickly yellow marks that went down my sides, far down my sides...

My hands clenched my jean pants. They were stiff and rough againest my sweaty palms and I held them therefor a long moment as horror swamped my brain. I looked down at my legs. What if...

I stopped that thought in its tracks, threw up a wall of denialand lookedback to the mirror.My own face stared at me pale and scared, a ghost in a pair of blue jeans. My pants. I didn't want to look, couldn't look, couldn't face...

My brain told me that bruises weren't really all that terrifying. That it was just blood pooling beneath the skin and it doesn't hurt that much either. Just sore and it'd heal in a day or two with some ice. But… all my instincts screamed panic to yell and cry. Something's going on and I have no clue. I don't know. Tired. Bruises. Can't think. No one's home. Why aren't they home?

I was getting seriously freaked out, feeling like those teenagers in horror movies when the first kid disappears and the scream trails off to nothing. I couldn't remember what I did last night- I mean, I didn't do anything! Did I? And then today, there's all these marks…

V! I had toget Virgil- he might know something, anything. He can always make it better... In a spur of action fueled by fear, I grabbed my discardedclothes and reached in the hoodie pocket for the Shock Vox. It wasn't there. My panic growing, I patted it all down,shook out my tee-shirt and checked the cold floor. I patted my jean pockets with trembling limbs. My Shock Vox was missing.

I left the bathroom and raced to the closet phone, still shirtless, with a single goal in mind. I had to call Virgil-needed Virgil. Something was wrong, desperately horribly wrong. A super brain isn't good in panic, millions of possible scenarios- rape, kidnapping, no one home, popped into my head as I grabbed the phone, my hand shaking. I was never good with panic, not when it's about me, when I'm the problem, lost, all alone, I don't remember… what's going on?!

2394-

Fingers halted mid-dial as I stared at the wall phone in horror. From the hall mirror, the image of my bare bruised back wavered on the sleek phone's surface.

_There was something on my neck._

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_end chapter 1_


	3. Catch your breath, hit the wall

Hey! I love every single person who reviewed. It's becouse of you guys I put this up. It's rather short, I'm sorry. There's been no time. At the moment I have so much schoolwork to do it isn't even funny, add being sick and still having work on top of that- I'm ready to scream. This is typed up during my lunchperiod- I'd much rather do this than study functions. It's just so horrible when there's school and work and all I want to do is write. And sleep. LOTS of sleep.

Thanksgo out to :**LaBOBuren, dea puella,Makkura, Daftendirekt, KaliAnn, leev **and** EyesLikeSilk. **I couldn't keep doing this without you guys.

**Webkitsune:**I have the second chapter happeningbefore the fist, just because that's how my brain wrote it. If you like it after it, go right ahead! I'm just glad you like it.

This is getting longer than the chapter. Sorry. If you got this far, please review. It really means something to me.

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**Catch your breath, start to fall**

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_There was something on my neck._

Trembling fingers lighted upon cold metal in horror. Metal…on my neck. Three smooth disks connected by two wires drew a perverse pyramid.

On my neck.

I collapsed against the wall, fingers scrabbling at bruised flesh There was metal on my neck. Nails scrapped around the circles, trying to flick them off, at the twisted wires, trying to pick them off. Get them off.

Like a scab I scratched at the steel, single mindedly, to _get it off get it off get it off. _

Blood dribbled down my back and it still wouldn't come out. What happened? Why? My mind spun and the wall tilted as my hands still scrapped at my neck. At the metal on my neck. **Metal.** Oh god...A part of me, that wasn't screaming, noticed I hadn't hung up the phone, couldn't move and the wall was getting fuzzier…

Breath, Richie. Remember to breath. Questing fingers slowed the destruction. Now bloodied nails poked and prodded at...at the /thing/. It hadn't made a difference. Now my skin was tattered, oozing blood, but it was still there. Welded to the skin. I poked it more. It seemed to go beneath that even. Not just embedded, but three cords went down to connect to the bone

Nausea rose up, sudden and swift and that pushed all thoughts out of my mind, as I hurriedly rose. /Get to the bathroom/ Stumbling I knelt before the bowl just in time to empty whatever I had left in my stomach. It wasn't much, but the bile burned my throat and left a gross acidy aftertaste that I tried spit out as the toilet flushed. It didn't work.

So lets see- that's my head, my back, my front, my throat, my neck; all I need is a hammer on both feet and I'll have a full fucking set.

I stared at the inside of the toilet for a bit, just let my mind wander, because I really did not want to think about anything especially not my current state and the fact that I had METAL on my-

the toilet was really white. Mom must clean it or something- I've never seen her, but then I'm not home a lot. I mean, I never cleaned it. Some must though, because I'd think that with it being a toilet and all, the inside'd be gross and icky. But it was shiny and cream colored. Although maybe the force of the water, when you flush and it swirls, creates a force vacuum that suctions out all the dirt and… other stuff. Although the force needed to do that- let's see… calculations zoomed by.- no, too much, that would crack the porcelain and cause-

My right hand reached up and flushed the toilet again.

I stared at it. And then at my other arm, which hadn't moved. And then back at my right, which was lowering itself back to my side. And back at the left- still not moving.

They both felt the same.

I didn't tell my arm to move, couldn't feel the muscles in my arm moving, didn't feel it touch the steel handle or anything. It moved, but I didn't move it.

The bathroom spun again and my vision blurred. If this was movie, I'd probably faint right now, which would be nice, but I'd never fainted in my life and wasn't quite sure how one did it. Maybe if I bashed my head against the toilet bowl…

"No, Richie! Get a hold of yourself man." I said to myself firmly, even though telling yourself to get a grip does not imply having a grip on much of anything. "That'll cause brain damage. You're a superbrain- deal with it; there's some explanation for this, even if we don't know it yet."

I stared at the toilet bowl, which was looking nice and friendly and just the right thing to bash my head against. "I just referred to myself in the plural, didn't I? And I'm talking to myself and a toilet- out loud. I must be hallucinating. That's it. This is all a dream. Just a dream."

My left hand dipped it's fingers into the bowl. I watched it in captivated fascination as it began to write on the tile, in shaky lopsided letters that were definitely not my handwriting. It flopped back to my side and I stared at the translucent word thatglowered before me.

**Brainiac**

Well, shit.

_-010011010110100010011100-_

_"Is-Is Virgil there?"_

_"Richie? What, you're not with him? And here I thought you were conjoined twins...Hold on...__Vir-gil! Get the Ph-one!"_

"Got it!...Hey, Daisy!"

_"Nope, Try lucky door number three." _

"Richie? What 'r you doing on the phone?"

_"Something happened. Look, can you come over?"_

"Your house?" **_pause. _**

"Oh, man, Daisy's gonna call in like 10 minutes. Hold on, I'll call her back-"

"_No. I'll just come over. See you, bro." _

"Wai-what? Richie, Richie!"

**_silence_**

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TBC...


	4. Civilian Resistance

_Hey! Ok. I'm back. Been a while, but I hope it's worth the wait. _

_Disclaimer: Well, what do you know? I don't own Static Shock. If I did, well.. Virgil and Richie wouldn't suddenly be so buff, poor Frieda'd get some screen time and Richie and Virgil would make out at least once.  
But I don't, so Darn._

_**SLASH** in later chapters! You are WARNED!_

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**Civilian Reaction**

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_

_"Think my pops will believe I was late for dinner because we had to save the Watch Tower?"_

"_Nope."_

"_ok. I'll just blame it on you!" Virgil grinned as he walked out their gastation._

_Next to the computer Richie grinned, too, his face hidden behind the monitor filled with zooming numbers . His brain worked at an equality faster rate. At the moment he was upgrading the computer in their HQ. He'd made it from old parts found in the scrap yard- it should have only been as fast as an old Macintosh, good for typing and well, just typing. _

_But with super genius Richie on the job…mwhahahaha! _

_He'd reprogrammed the software, added extra memory drives, floppy and disk drives, and a CD burner (because you never knew when you might need it). Those were new, gotten from year's worth of allowance saving and selling some of his sci-fi models. The rest were sold for more parts- for gadgets and gizmos that couldn't be found in the yard._

_It wasn't easy being a teenage superhero. Most of time they were poor. He couldn't figure out how Superman did it. Batman, he'd learned from Virgil's concomitance was a rich dude. But Superman… he'd have to have a job and it couldn't be a regular one either. Maybe a writer? Writers just had deadlines…_

_It's possible. What though, would Superman write? Sci-fi, maybe. They fought aliens after all and evil computers. Maybe Fantasy then, plenty of magic, maybe not elves and wizards, but telepaths and psycho ancient deities._

_Richie gasped as another thought came to him. Romance! That's it! Superman was a crappy romance writer. Anyone could write romance books and who would ever suspect a man writer, never mind- Superman! A genius disguise._

_A yawn interrupted his train wrecked thoughts and he looked at the blinking clock in the corner of the monitor. 9:30. He'd been here longer than he thought. _

"_With a super brain like yours, Richie. Do you think of ways to better mankind? No-ooo, instead Superman writes romance novels. Ugh, Time for me to go, too." he told the empty room. He didn't like the place empty like this, without Virg. It just seemed so different.He was gonnaclear out Backpack's hardrive- he could get rid of the vioce activation-command, it was too slow now that he could mentally upload data. But it was kinda late and if he started on that he'd think of something else to add, and then something more and then he'd be really really late getting home. And that would not be good._

"_Time to shut you down, Backpack." He reached for the control and a metal pincer knocked it away. _

"_Backpack!" It whacked the control farther away and then pounced. "Wha- Backpack! Stop!" _

_This was not happening to him. _

_He struggled against the metal death grip, but to no avail. He hadn't expected one. Backpack was perfect- 13 pound mishmash capable of holding down Bang Babies over 600 pounds. There'd be no way Richie could free himself. But he tried anyway- eyes scanning the underbelly, looking for a weakness, any weakness. And cursed. He'd made it strongest there- welded together the sheets so that it was near impossible to tell where one sheet started and the other began. _

"_Backpack?" he said again and would have smacked himself if he could. Like the robot would answer. Stupid, it doesn't have anything that could make sound, except for some odd gears that whirred. It could translate spoken commands but it couldn't think._

_It wasn't human. You couldn't plead with it or reason with it, because there was nothing to plead or reason with. It did what it was told and otherwise followed the inset program. To stop it, the program has to be reload, tweaked- there's probably a virus that got in._

_Richie swore as the pincer dung deeper, and little pinpricks of blood welled up through his shirt, he knew he should have updated the firewalls. There was probably one of those haywire bugs inside. He'd have to dissemble the whole thing. And in the meantime he was in the clutches of his own robot, like some criminal they caught. _

_The pincers squeezed and Richie started to feel a little sympathy more for the criminals they'd caught. _

_This was scary. Was this how they felt? Captured by a robot and knowing that there's no way out. Alright, since "they" were normally evil villains there was always an escape route, there must have been an instant of panic, right? He wasn't the only one that feared a computer holding him at his mercy? _

_Metal claws dug deep into soft flesh, but Richie didn't wince. 'There's a virus in my robot. Virus, Virus- something's important about Virus. Virus- '_

/looking up to V's worried face. "….nasty virus. And it doesn't want to just delete people's email."/

_Could it be? Brainiac in his robot. It did take over computer devices and when he'd crashed its system- it must have uploaded itself into the-_

_Pain exploded in his head- _

_It HURT, IT HURT make it stop- MAKE IT-_

_Richie screamed before blessed darkness engulfed him. _

**00011110001011001**

"Maggie, that son of yours is out of line."

"Hello-Sean?"

Did you come home?

No, I've been at Susan's all day. Is something wrong?"

'Yeah. Something's wrong. Someone came in, left the bathroom a mess, broke the hall mirror and left the phone off the hook. Do you know what that phone bill will be like, Maggie? The electricity? Who knows how long it's been on- I tell you… Is Richie there?"

"no. He hasn't stopped by at all. I left a note on the fridge."

"Huh. Well, that boy's gotta learn some respect. I spent 2 hours looking for him this morning- all the comic shops. Me, in comic book stores! Looking out the window all through meetings, my co-workers think I'm nuts and he sneaks on home. Partied all night, too doped up to show his face- I looked in his room and, you know what Maggie, that's mess too. "

"I'm sure he wasn't on drugs, maybe it was too late- He's a teenager, Sean- you remember what that was like."

"I, at least had respect for other people's belongings. There's a glass all along the hall, that's dangerous- I near sliced my foot open. We can't have this Maggie. He's wild, a delinquent."

"Sean, I think that's a bit much, he hasn't done anything wrong."

"That's what I'm talking about! You can't coddle him, Maggie. There's kids out on the streets stealing and fighting- all younger than Richie. There's drugs and gangs-".

"Richie wouldn't do anything like that- you know he's a good kid."

"Do I, Maggie? He's been hanging with that kid-

"Virgil"

"-Virgil more and more lately. He's never home, grades are slipping and when he bothers to come home he's wasted. I don't know my own son. Tell me there's nothing wrong, that that's not a gang."

"Sean, maybe if you talked with him once and a while… he's not in a gang, though. Maybe he's just stressed out or tired, you know how teen-"

**0110011101000**

"Virgil there's something **wrong**."

I sat on his bed and sighed again. I doubt even the strongest inflection on the word will get Virgil's attention- this is Virgil we're talking about after all. He's oblivious. He never noticed Freida's attempts to clue him in on her crush, no matter how obvious she got, so why should he recognize my plea for help. He always liked people to come out and tell him what was going on. Too bad I can't.

"yeah… He nods, twirls on his seat, ear still attached the phone. He'd been talking with Daisy since I got here. Ten minutes ago. "uh, Daisy… alright…"

"Daisy I gotta-" He seems to break free from the phone for a moment, but then slumped back into his chair." …uhhun…."

I wanted to scream. Brainiac was in my mind, watching my thoughts, what I say, what I do; so I couldn't say it outright. Even if I did "Virgil, by the way, there's an evil computer inside my brain that's controlling all my actions and it wants to destroy the world." that would go over ree-aal well.

And I wasn't in danger at the moment-It was preoccupied with my brain, organizing everything. Classified Danger but not an immediate one. I'd rather get Virgil to understand everything than have it ruined by Brainiac interfering from its work on the new Richie A15 model.

See, ever since my powers started emerging my brain's been- well, just think of a superhighway. All those cars rushing around, passing each other, switching lanes- all going somewhere and going really really fast down the speedway. And the road's not straight either, full of flips and turns and loops every which way, with all these possibilities and thoughts zooming and crashing and so much going on I don't know what I'm thinking about.

Pure chaos.

Computers can't handle that chaos, the spontaneous ness. They need order and systems and precise data, not odd thoughts randomly popping into my head. So it's changing it. Organizing it. Like hard drives in a computer, it's giving parts of brain certain tasks. I can feel it mentally ordering a filing system. It's not pleasant, having something in your mind changing your thoughts, taking them over. And I don't do organized, not in anyway. It **hurts**.

But at least while it's preoccupied, or as preoccupied as a computer can be; I can talk to Virgil, be myself. Try to tell him. He could get the Justice League, get help, get me freedom.

The computer stirred. Oh, shit.

"Virgil, this is important. As in-" His hand covered my mouth, before I could say Static. "Mpghfgp-APID!"

"Oh, no Daisy- I'm fine I just **really** gotta g-… yeah…" Virgil went take to the Daisy monologue, his hand over my mouth. He couldn't get off the stupid phone and Brainiac… Brainiac moved on todisecting the part for "emotions"and I couldn't let him, wouldn't let the computer past those.

I licked him.

Virgil froze. Straight iron backed, like he'd been zapped, but he didn't look at me. I licked his palm again and he whipped around pinning me with the patented Virgil death glare. I'm immune, though. I gave him my shit-faced grin, which was ruined by his hand that was **still** covering my mouth. My smile morphed into a glare. No one can resit the Richie death glare; becouse really I don't glare that much. Virgil let go.

A moment of no sound in the room, except for Daisy's chatter on the phone line. I gave it a try.

"STA" And the hand was back.

In my brain, Brainiac watched and calculated

I folded my arms and glared at him, panic edging in. Of all times for him to want a social life. I'm having a CRISIS! Virgil leaned away from the phone and hissed in my ear:

"not now, Rich." I glared again- harder and then did the only thing I could think of.

I **bit** his hand.

He yelped and jumped up, dropping the phone to the floor as he shook his wounded hand. "What was hell that for Richie!"

He had that hurt look in his eye, like I'd killed his puppy; not just bit him. Like he didn't deserve that, like I wasn't in a crisis and he couldn't care enough to listen for one second. Like he'd done nothing wrong and I was the bad guy.

"Well, maybe if you had listened the first **thousand** times I tried to tell you I wouldn't have had to do that." I yelled

"Oh, yeah, like you **had** to bit me. I made you do it."

Made you made you… Brainiac was gonna make me do something. Angry threatened to overwhelm me as I stood up, first clenched and vision red. I wanted to smash something- hard I have an evil computer that's taking over my brain and he arguing with me!

"Like I made you ignore me, too. I'm only your best bloody friend, not like I'm **Daisy**-"

"She can hear you, you know!" Virgil yelled, scrambling for the phone on the floor, and flinging it out the window to the balcony with his static power. He stepped forward and we were screaming in each others faces.

"So what! You wouldn't mind, Lover boy! Rather she was your fricking partner, huh Static? Why the hell did I ever think you could help me?"

"Help you- with what?" He screamed, but I was already turned away and out the door. "Where are you going?"

I turned around, ready to strangle him, ready to bash something to it broke and there was nothing left but dust. "I don't know!"

I slammed the door and stomped downstairs. Sharon looked up from the couch, a snippy comment ready. "What's" She stopped at the look on my face and burrowed her face back in the book.

I stalked out of the Hawkins's house and then down the street. It didn't matter where I was going, just as long as I got away from **him**.

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_My favorite part: Richie licking Virgil's hand! ;)Thanks to **onlyonceinforever, super, leev, SnakeMistriss, **and **LaBOBuren**_

_**WebKistune:** those dividers are for you! ;) Could you believe I'm so hectic, I also forgot them? I'm ashamed of myself._

_**Estel Baggins:** I lied. Richie is my favortie. Thanks for your review on Reality,too. Someday I will update. err... Someday._

_Is author's notes at the end a good/bad idea?  
__Please review!_


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